My Best Friend's Betrayal

My restaurant, Joy Come Restaurant, had its grand opening today. Warm yellow light fell on the wooden tables, with the cutlery neatly arranged. When the wind chimes at the door rang, I was busy checking the utensils on the last table. I looked up to see Anne Sue walk in, carrying her designer handbag and wearing an exaggerated smile. "Georgina, congratulations on your grand opening!" She opened her arms, eager to hug me. I stepped aside and gestured to the empty seat next to me. "Have a seat. What do you want to eat? It's on me today." Anne Sue didn't mind my coldness and flipped open the menu on her own. She was my best female friend—from high school until now, over ten years of friendship. She said she'd come to show her support before the grand opening, and I was genuinely looking forward to it. Benjamin Johnson walked in with me; he's my fiancé, dressed in a sharp suit. "Georgina, the restaurant looks really great." He came over and patted me on the shoulder. I smiled and signaled for the waitstaff to come take our order. Anne Sue ordered seven or eight dishes at once, all the priciest ones on the menu. I didn't say anything; it was the opening day, and I just wanted my friend to be happy. Throughout the meal, Anne kept praising how delicious the food was. Sometimes she said the steak was cooked just right, other times she complimented the freshness of the soup. She kept holding her mobile phone, snapping pictures, saying she wanted to post them in her social circle to promote it. I thought she was genuinely happy for me. After the meal, the waitstaff handed me the bill. Just as I reached out to take it, Anne Sue suddenly pulled a paper from her bag. She pushed the paper in front of me, her smile fading. "Georgina, this is my bill. Take a look." I took the paper in confusion, and the contents stunned me. "Dish memory point consultation fee: 100,000; restaurant flow optimization consultation fee: 150,000; background music evaluation fee: 50,000; social circle promotion fee: 200,000." All together, it's five hundred thousand. I thought I must have been mistaken, rubbed my eyes, and looked again. The number was still five hundred thousand—not a single cent less. "Anne Sue, what do you mean by that?" My voice caught slightly. Anne Sue leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. "I'm a food blogger, so these suggestions are totally professional." "Your restaurant just opened; you need my expert guidance and the promotion from my social circle." "Five hundred thousand is already a steal. With anyone else, I wouldn't be this willing to give it." I was shaking with anger; after more than ten years as best female friends, she was really keeping score like this.